Back to Black
by Wordwalker
Summary: One Shot. Brittana. Santana only auditioned for the Glee solo with Back to Black because she wanted to impress Brittany.


**A/N: edited version. If you find mistakes, please let me know. Typos are embarrassing.**

Santana narrowed her eyes at the names on the audition list, adding her own beneath that of Mercedes Jones. Here she was, the chance for a Glee club solo before her, beckoning, calling, promising, and if Rachel Berry, Kurt Hummel or Mercedes Jones thought that they were going to take that away from her, then they had another thing coming. Santana could feel it in her bones – it was going to be her moment.

She knew she was talented, it was just a matter of reminding everyone else just how talented, and if that involved knocking Mercedes and Kurt down a notch and crushing the dreams of Rachel Berry to do it, then so be it – she wasn't going to sacrifice her own dreams for someone else's. The Glee club might have been like family, but that meant nothing when Santana's competitiveness took over, and judging by the names on the list, the same went for the others too.

And then there was the matter of Brittany. Santana loved her; that much was irrefutable, and while she knew the blonde girl returned the romantic feelings, her morals were preventing her from breaking up with her boyfriend to be with Santana. So, all of a sudden, Santana found herself in a position where she needed to impress the other girl in a way she'd had no need of doing before. The rational part of her brain told her that she didn't have to do anything to impress Brittany, and that if the girl chose to stay with Artie, then there was nothing Santana could do about it, but the irrational, lovelorn part of her mind, screaming louder and more frantic with each passing day said that yes, if she impressed Britt enough, she would realise what a mistake she was making with Artie and would come be with her instead. Thus, Santana found herself there, pen in hand, scrawling her name across the page, determined to win the solo.

She knew that Brittany knew why she was auditioning, why she would go through all that effort where she never had before. And Brittany knew that Santana knew that she didn't have to do a single thing to make her love the Latina more, because she was already in love with her. The problem lay in the fact that Santana was not willing to expose her secret homosexuality to anyone yet; she would rather drag Brittany into the closet and hide in there away from the rest of the world. But to do that, she felt that she had to win the solo and impress Brittany so much that she would let her without any protests.

For the first time in her life, Santana threw herself head first into the music. She wanted to win so badly that the need resonated within every fibre of her body, every muscle, every nerve, every cell – they were alive with need. She practiced at every opportunity, she recruited the Jazz band, she sang with them, she sang without them, she sang before school and after school, at lunchtimes; she was pretty sure that she even sang in her sleep. All the while, audition day approached at a breakneck pace, drawing ever closer, ever more threatening.

When it finally arrived, Santana wasn't the least bit nervous. She'd practiced enough to know that she could pull the number off without the slightest hitch. There on the stage, staring out into the darkened auditorium where Mr Shuester and Jesse St James sat, her heart beat hard in her chest. She could feel it pumping against the inside of her ribcage, fast, so very fast. Ok, so she was a little bit nervous – there was so much riding on this moment for her. She steeled herself, taking a deep breath and finding that place just behind her sternum which kept the butterflies at bay and infused her with strength and confidence.

The band started playing and she raised her eyes heavenward for the briefest flicker of a second in prayer: 'For Brittany'. Then she opened her mouth, and sang.

The lyrics cascaded from her mouth, welling up from the centre of her body, rolling over her tongue and bursting out to hang in the air of the auditorium. She was alive; every single one of her cells was vibrating, singing the song that her voice box articulated. She was reaching out, trying with invisible strands to find he woman she loved, trying to be with her in song, trying to will her to listen. The song was about her after all; Santana didn't choose _Back to Black_ just because she liked the music.

"We only said goodbye with words," she sang, not to the two men judging, but to the blonde girl out in the world, somewhere beyond the four walls of the auditorium.

"I died a hundred times," no, more, a thousand, a million, an infinite amount, Santana thought as the song kept pouring forth. She'd bared her heart to the world, she'd come clean about her feelings, and what had she gotten? An apology and nothing else, except feelings which refused to disappear. What was so terrible about being with her that Brittany would not leave the cripple, Artie? Santana had walked away because she couldn't bear to see the girl she loved be in love with someone else. But she hadn't really left; she'd said goodbye, but her heart told a different story. It told the one of the girl who could only be consoled by one other, the story about the girl who was lonely except for one true friend, it was a story about wanting what you couldn't have and it was killing Santana everyday, every second. So she lived in the music, she lived in the possibilities, she lived in the memories.

"You go back to her," she sang, the vision of Brittany sitting in Artie's lap swimming in front of her eyes, taunting her. There isn't a more harsh reminder of rejection than seeing the one you love be in love with someone else. Santana wished Brittany was sitting in _her _lap, laughing with her at _her_ jokes, kissing her lips.

"And I go back to black," she continued. Back to the loneliness, back to being the girl who wasn't loved, back to being the girl with too many feelings and no one to express them to. Santana was terrified. She didn't want to be that girl anymore. She wanted Brittany to make it go away, the way she always did. Santana had had a glimpse of paradise and now it haunted her. All Brittany had to do was stand next to her, and Santana could face the world with confidence. Brittany's smile made her forget things, the feel of her pinky linked with hers gave her amnesia, but the worst of all, or maybe the best, was the warmth of her naked body pressed up against her own sent her into oblivion. And Santana missed oblivion – she missed it with the ferocity of a foreigner missing their homeland, and with the helplessness of a child separated from their mother.

The only way to be found was to put herself out there, and on that stage, standing on her own for the first time, singing from her heart, she knew that she had definitely put herself out there. She couldn't have made it more obvious if she'd walked around with a huge neon sign flashing 'I am here' in Brittany's face. The only problem was that Brittany wasn't in the audience to hear her song. All that effort in choosing an appropriate song went unnoticed. And seeing the look on Jesse's face, she knew her audition had been a waste of time.

They all knew he was only there for Rachel anyway and this farce was to show her that he still cared. He was getting her attention in the only way he knew how to – by putting on a show. He and Santana had that in common, at least. But hearing his comments about her performance didn't make her forgive him for making them audition only so that he could have another chance at breaking Rachel's heart.

Santana felt anger at the injustice flare within her chest. It wasn't fair that she should put so much of her soul into view only to have it shot down. And Brittany, she couldn't even go to Brittany because Brittany was too busy trying to be a good girlfriend to Artie. Life just wasn't fucking fair. Santana stormed off the stage, raging. She wanted nothing more than to tear Jesse St James apart limb from limb with her bare hands for his comments about her performance – it had been flawless and they both knew it. No, not true; she wanted nothing more than Brittany to be hers, and only hers. If she was, then nothing else would matter – no solo, no competition, no school; it would all fade into the background.

Much later, after auditions were done and over with, Kurt and Mercedes also having wasted their time only to be shot down by the scathing remarks of Jess, Santana returned to the auditorium. She just wanted to be there on the stage. She needed to wallow in another loss on the battlefield of love. So she sat on the lip of the stage, legs hanging over edge, and stared out into the empty seats, imagining another life where everything was perfect, where Brittany was her girlfriend and she didn't have to worry about the people finding out about her secret homosexuality. It was a nice thought. It was also completely unrealistic, so she stomped on it, crushing the fantasy into dust and cursing its existence because it left her with a memory.

A noise behind her started Santana and she jumped around to see Brittany standing there, head tilted to one side, her eyes filled with concern. Santana didn't say anything – what could she say anyway? But the silence was stretching out, creating a void of loneliness between them, and finally, Santana feared that the ever growing space would leave them strangers if one of them didn't break the silence.

"Hey," she said.

"I saw your audition," Brittany said. Santana's eyes widened, but the blonde continued, "it was really good. You should win, but everyone knows Rachel's gonna win 'cause Jesse still loves her."

"You – you saw me sing Back to Black? You were in the audience? I thought Mr Shue wasn't letting anyone in."

"No, silly, I climbed up to the lighting rigs," Brittany said and pointed upwards, "Jake from the AV club showed me so I would promise to never tell anyone about how he has to look at men's muscle magazines to get hard."

Santana's eyes widened further as she realised several things at once: one, that Brittany had seen her sing, and two, that this Jake guy, whoever he was, was probably another closet gay. She filed the information in her brain under 'info to be used later for blackmail'.

"So you saw me sing. Well, it doesn't matter. Like you said, we all know Rachel's won because Jesse's an ass who made us audition only to choose Rachel to win so she can see that he loves her," she said with bitterness lacing her voice.

"Just like you sang song to say that you loved me," Brittany said, coming to sit next to the Latina on the edge of the stage.

"What? It's just a song, Britt."

"You never sing 'just a song'. I know what it was about. You're hurting because I didn't break up with Artie."

"I don't care what you do with Stubbles McCripplePants," Santana said, but didn't meet the other girl's eye. She knew Brittany knew that she was lying.

"Yes, you do. That's why you sang that song. I love you Santana, I told you, but I can't break up with Artie. It would break his heart, and I can't have that on my consciousness."

"Conscience," Santana corrected automatically, "and you might not want to break his heart, but did you even stop to think that you were breaking mine?"

She didn't want to sit there anymore if this was all she was going to hear. It already hurt enough. But as she got up to leave, Brittany grabbed her hand to stop her.

"I miss you."

Suddenly, Santana's legs refused to work. She wanted to leave, didn't she? So why wouldn't her legs move? Why did it feel like her muscles just became rubber? Well, if she couldn't walk away, she could do something else, something she wanted to do more than walking away. Moving quickly so she wouldn't lose her nerve, she leaned in and pressed her lips to Brittany's. The other girl responded for the briefest of moments before pulling away.

"Artie," she whispered, her eyes still closed and Santana had to use all her self control to stop herself from growling in frustration.

"He's not here."

"But I can't do this to him."

"You want to."

"Yeah, but what about Artie?"

"He doesn't have to know."

"But this is cheating."

"It's not cheating," Santana started, "remember – "

"The plumbing's different," Brittany finished with a smile as her lips caught Santana's and her fingers found the hem of Santana's pants. Santana's heart leapt in triumph and then need as Brittany's finger slipped inside her pants, at which point the last of her coherent thoughts scattered and she surrendered herself to oblivion.


End file.
